Tomorrow Comes
by emma.mg.9
Summary: Series of one shots and short stories looking into the life of the growing family of Les Amis. Because with a group like this, raising children will be quite the adventure. (Rating for possible later chapters)
1. Father's Day

**Lovelies! Here is the start of something new! :D I'm proud to present that series of One Shots and Short Stories I've promised to chronicle the growing family of Les Amis. Here is my Bastille day present to you! The first One-Shot! I meant for this to come out on actual father's day but... bit of writer's block... But here's to hoping I'll have faster updates and hopefully one soon for** ** _Arrested_** **(I promise before August at least...)**

 **But without further ado, the first chapter in** ** _Tomorrow Comes_**

 **Disclaimer: A LOT of fluff... Lot of it**

 **Warning: Nope... only the babies**

Sleep. It was a necessity that came all easily to him (much to the chagrin of his wife.). He was infamous for falling asleep in lectures, during meetings, movies, special events, name the place, he will probably have fallen asleep for at least a portion of the time there.

Along with this gift waking up came with the same grace (he wondered how his beloved ever put up with him.).

So when he became aware of his surroundings one Sunday morning, it wasn't with a groan or a start, but a small smile.

He felt the definite weight of two small bodies on his chest and the sudden presence of sticky fingers poking his cheeks.

He felt the smile widen when a child size pair of lips pressed themselves to the cheek opposite the one getting the poking assault.

"Papa! Papa! Papa! Papa!" The little voices called, now both attacking his cheeks. With one surrendering sigh, Combeferre opened his eyes.

Sitting directly on his chest was his troublemaking duo. Sarah was still in her nightgown, her curly chestnut locks sticking up in every direction. Ben, though also still clad in cowboy pjs, had his hair in some kind of order.

His children's rather unkempt morning appearance was completed with sticky fingers covered in batter and their own faces white with flower.

"Good Morning Mes petites." Combeferre laughed, propping himself up to scoop his children into his arms. Both squealed with delight and proceeded to cover more of Combeferre with their battery paws.

"What do we say to Papa babies? What's today?" Éponine questioned, now appearing in the doorway, a tray laden with breakfast items in her hands, Gavroche at her side, carrying a coffee mug with a boy on the side and juice.

"Papa Day!" Sarah squealed, flinging her arms up and nearly clipping her brother's chin in the process. Ben yelped, but wasn't too fazed, because the food tray was all the closer to be eaten now.

Gavroche came to the bedside first, putting the coffee and juice down before hurling himself into Combeferre's free side.

"Happy Father's day Papa." Gav whispered clutching tighter to the man he called father when he felt Combeferre squeeze back.

Éponine maneuvered into their bedroom and carefully placed the breakfast tray on the bed before leaning over their children to place a sweet kiss on her husband's lips.

"Happy Father's day Henri." She whispered.

"Thank you Mon Cherie." He replied placing one more kiss on her nose. "Mmm, you put cinnamon in the pancakes?" He questioned, removing one of his hands from behind Sarah to taste the blotch of batter on Éponine's cheek.

"How can you possibly tell from one taste?" Éponine laughed, worming herself onto the bed and pulling a hungry Ben into her lap (three seconds from his sticky fingers demolishing the pancakes.).

"Where I find my taste buds to be quite advanced, you and Sarah have extra freckles around your nose." He nodded towards her nose as he pulled Sarah into his lap and reached around to pull Éponine, Ben, and Gav closer to him on the bed.

"Gav was in charge of sprinkling." Éponine laughed while Gavroche defended his 'sprinkling' skills.

"Papa chalk Papa, chalk!" Sarah clapped, Ben joining soon after.

Combeferre raised an eyebrow to his wife before questioning. "That is powdered sugar on one of the pancakes and most of Sarah's curls right? I shouldn't warn Joly of any ER visits?"

Éponine only laughed softly before leaning over to kiss her husband once more, much to her children's disgust.

"They haven't quite figured out every letter sound that chocolate has yet Henri."

Combeferre breathed a sigh of relief before turning his attention to his children.

"Well, shall we?"

Needless to say, the entire bed set was in desperate need of cleaning before the waffle stack was even acknowledged.

Musichetta awoke that morning in an odd fashion. It wasn't odd because anything extraordinary, but it was odd for the fact she was the only one left in bed. Of their unique family, she was always the first to crawl out of the bed, which was an impressive task within itself seeing as she'd usually wake up curled into Bousset's front and globed onto Joly's back (On very special mornings she'd be pressed tightly between her two lovers who in turn were facing each other, holding their arms together above her nestled form.). But this morning she found herself in a very empty bed.

Rising slowly and collection her robe from the bedroom floor, she clothed herself with it as she went to the foot of the bed to check on their angel. Her eyebrows disappeared within her wild curls when she came to discover that the infant wasn't in her crib sleeping soundly. The only thing in the beautiful lavender and pink bassinet Feuilly and Grantaire had fashioned them was the pale yellow blanket Cossette had knit and Jessie's plush elephant.

Worry was the first thing to seep into her bones as she slowly padded to the kitchen, but it was soon replaced with bliss as she came upon the sight before her.

She found her baby girl sitting quite happily in her little bouncy chair on top of the granite island. She was gurgling joyfully and waving her small stubby fists up and down as she watched the show before her. Both of her fathers were making quite the spectacle of attempting to feed their month old daughter her (in Musichetta's humble opinion.) mush.

She had to stifle her laughter when she realized Bousset was wearing half the jar of mashed banana and apple. He didn't seem to mind though as he air planed the small plastic spoon through the air, trying make a landing in his daughter's smiling mouth. Joly was holding onto Bousset's arm, smiling brightly at his daughter, encouraging her to take the food Daddy was holding because "It's good for you Baby girl! It'll help keep you from getting diseases!"

Bousset shook his head lovingly and then whooped in celebration when Jessie finally clamped her toothless gums on the spoon.

"And the airplane has landed!" He cheered, swooping in to pepper Jessie's cheeks with kisses.

"Only about twenty-seven and a half airplanes to go for her to get a balanced breakfast." Joly sighed, lifting the patria (Enjolras' personal gift to every new infant. Or as Grantaire refers to it, the 'invitation to the squad' gift.) Bib to clean off the food that decorated her rosy cheeks.

Bousset laughed once more and pulled Joly to his side, placing an equally sloppy kiss on his cheek.

None of them had noticed Musichetta leaning on the doorframe, capturing each moment with her phone and wiping the escaping tear from her eye.

Soon enough though, after the thirteenth airplane made a successful landing did she reveal her presence in the kitchen.

She moved forward and wrapped her arms around her boys, squeezing them tightly to herself, sandwiching her in the middle. When Jessie noticed her mother had entered the scene, she squealed with delight, clapping her little hands together.

Kissing both of them she whispered, "Happy Father's day Daddies."

Cossette grumbled silently to herself as he popped over the remnants of the bubble wrap her husband had covered their living room in when their son began rolling over. Now at nearly 6 months old and threatening to stand at any moment, Cossette cringes at the thought of what else her aloof husband could do to baby proof their house.

Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, she catches sight of the clock and realizes that she managed to capture eight blissful hours of sleep, meaning either two things; 1) Alex had finally slept fully and peacefully through the night or 2) her husband was a saint.

As she came into the doorframe of her son's room she found it was the latter. In the center of the room was Marius bouncing Alex lightly in his arms, rubbing his hand up and down the boy's truck fashioned pjs.

"Come on Alex, come on buddy, don't you wanna sleep? Just because the suns up doesn't mean you can't go back to bed bud."

Alex's little shoulders were shaking slightly in what Cossette figured was dying sobs. Their little boy's teeth were coming in and where he was passed the stage of not sleeping through the night; teeth breaking through sensitive gums did backtrack sleeping patterns slightly.

Cossette leaned against the doorjamb and crossed her arms against her chest and smiled softly watching her Husband chatter aimlessly to their son about nothing and everything.

"We don't want to wake Momma bud, Momma's been up a lot because your little teeth are being meanies, but don't worry bud, once their in Daddy's gonna get you all the sweets and junk food your little hands can sink into. Good foods too, but don't tell Momma about the junk food."

Cossette stifled her giggles and he continued to bounce Alex up and down. Finally after another twenty minutes of Marius' mindless babbling, Alex finally shut his eyes and began to snore lightly.

Cossette smiled once more when she saw Marius look skyward, relived and moved to put the baby down in his crib.

Cossette moved into the room and slipped her hands around her husband's waist, pressing her lips against his back in a loving kiss.

Marius relaxed into her grip. "I thought you'd still be sleeping Love."

She sighed happily. "No, eight hours was enough for one night, how long have you been up? When did Alex start to cry?"

Marius rubbed one hand over his watery exhausted eyes and looked at his watch.

"I think around 5, I was getting up to use the bathroom anyway when I walked by Alex's room, I went in to check on him and he was beginning to fuss, so I just picked him up, wanted you to sleep."

Cossette smiled, moving to stand in front of Marius so she could press her lips to his. "Thank you."

"Of course my Love."

"Oh, and happy Father's day Daddy."

Marius laughed aloud. "It's today isn't it?"

"Mm-Hmm. How's about I work on a father's day feast and you catch a few more hours of sleep. Sound good? We're not going to meet everyone at the café until later in the afternoon."

Marius sighed contentedly. "That sounds wonderful. I love you."

"I love you too darling."

Later, when the twins were snoring loudly against their parent's shoulders as they chatted amiably with Jehan and Courfeyac around the couches and Bousset was rocking a sleeping Jessie while laughing at Marius who was struggling to keep the ice 'boo boo bunny' in his son's mouth, Enjolras sighed and leaned into Grantaire's chest.

"What's the trouble Apollo?" Grantaire mused, his pencil moving gracefully across the page as he captured Musichetta and Cossette at the counter and Azelma arm wrestling Feuilly from Bahorel's lap. He smiled he captured Joly in the moment of checking Alex's temperature because "Too much exposure to ice can cause health problems."

"Nothing, just wondering about things."

Grantaire hummed, not pushing his fiancé to elaborate, however, Enjolras continued.

"Would you want one?"

Grantaire's pencil halted for a moment. "One?"

"A baby." Enjolras whispered, his eyes falling on Sarah who was fidgeting wildly even in her sleep to curl deeper into her father's chest.

Grantaire let his pencil drop and he shifted slightly to face Enjolras directly.

"Are you serious?"

He wanted to laugh at the color that flushed his lover's cheeks, but he kept it in check when Enjolras because to stutter.

"I mean, I understand you don't, I mean it's a lot and a hassle and I get " He stopped when Grantaire pressed his lips against his.

When they broke apart Grantaire was smiling wildly.

"My dear, noting would make me happier that having the opportunity to raise children with you."

Enjolras broke into a wide smile. "Really?"

"Of course. There's no one else I could imagine starting a family with, you'll make a great father one day."

Tears popped into the corners of Enjolras' blue eyes, something that had become much more frequent within the past year.

"So will you." He whispered.

Grantaire lifted his bottle, pressing another kiss to his fiancé's lips.

"To our future father's day."

 **So... Watchu think? I would LOVE a review/comment and maybe even some ideas for more one-shots ;) Until next time Lovelies! Don't forget to comment/ review, follow/fav.. The more love, the more update!**

 **See you soon Lovelies!**


	2. Stay Stay Stay

**Hello my Lovelies... I know, I've been a jerk, but so has my muse (which i know is a lousy excuse...) BUT I digress! Here's a new chapter in the one shot series and others are hopefully to come!**

 **It's a little bit inspired by Taylor Swift's 'Stay Stay Stay' (adorable song btw... worth a listen :) ) So i hope you enjoy!**

 **As always comments/reviews or follow/favs make me happy and make updating faster!**

 **Warning:Fluff**

 **Disclaimer: Still no rights...**

It came soaring through the air and had Courfeyac not ducked, the floral case of Jehan's iPhone would've connected with his head.

Looking wildly from the now shattered phone back to his fuming boyfriend, Courfeyac threw his hands up in frustration.

"What the hell Prouvaire? I don't see how anything I've said justified concussion!"

"Everything you've said it justified it Francois!" Jehan shrieked, angry tears pouring from his bloodshot eyes. "You've never considered my sister anything and now you won't even consider going Charlie's first birthday?"

Courfeyac groaned. "I never said I didn't like your sister, I just don't think her husband is good news, I'd prefer to keep my time near him limited."

"So you want to keep me from my family?" Jehan shouted, gripping the next available object near him (a potted plant.) and taking aim.

"That's not what I mean and you know it!"

"Than what do you mean?"

Courfeyac shouted out of fear as the second projectile soared through the air and met the same fate as phone.

"For God's Sake if you want to go to your nephew's birthday so damn badly than go! I'm not stopping you!" Courfeyac cried angrily, not understanding the full weight of his words.

Jehan let the third object (Courfeyac's phone.) slip from his fingers and hit the counter with a dull thud.

"My nephew." He whispered, tears now thickly streaming. He saw Courfeyac's eyes widen as he too realized what those words meant.

For at least a year now they'd begun to refer to everything as 'ours' never one's individually. They hadn't made the material commitment Grantaire and Enjolras had made with a ring, but to anyone who knew them they were already as good as married.

But now Courfeyac referred to their nephew as his alone. He understood Courfeyac's unease when it came to his sister's spouse, Jehan disliked his brother-in-law on mild days, but he didn't think it would cause the end of his relationship.

Courfeyac couldn't form words as he watched his little poet simple crumple under the weight of his mistake.

They held eye contact for what felt like centuries. Jehan expecting Courfeyac to storm out, but he simply stood there.

Finally, fed up with the contact, Jehan shook his head and ran for the bedroom. Locking the door, he collapsed on the bed and cried himself to sleep.

Cracking the sandy enclosure that sealed his eyelids, Jehan groggily reached out for the warm mass that was his lover. He grunted in displeasure when his hand came to find nothing, but then whimpered when he remembered why.

Jehan shuddered; he knew he would pad into the kitchen to find it abandoned, Courf's keys gone and his ratty Chuck Taylors absent from the door.

You could imagine his surprise when not only did Jehan trip over a pile of pillows and blankets by the door, but when he ambled into the kitchen still fully wrapped in their duvet he found Courfeyac whistling happily preparing breakfast.

Courfeyac was flipping pancakes when he noticed the little poet.

A small, hesitant smile graced his chapped lips as he gestured to the already made plate of pancakes.

"Morning."

"Can we talk about it?"

They said it simultaneously, prompting a blush to color Jehan's freckles.

Silence followed before Jehan mumbled quietly, "I just heard it's better not to leave a fight unresolved."

Courfeyac nodded slowly. He then turned off the stovetop and exited the kitchen bringing Jehan's shoulders to a defeated slump.

However when he returned moments later wearing some bizarre American football helmet Jehan couldn't hold back the giggle that exploded from his miserable façade.

"Ok, let's talk." Courf spoke, his voice slightly muffled by the mouth guard in the odd piece of head where that Bahorel had no doubt left at their apartment after another failed sports attempt.

"What's with the helmet?" Jehan stifled through his giggles.

"Well, after the phone and plant that I, deservingly, got thrown at my head, I figured I should be prepared for anything that comes this morning."

Jehan shook his head through his laughter. Moving forward he took hold of the front of the mask and brought the plastic forehead to his own.

"I love you very much Francois de Courfeyac."

With this new angle he could see his lover's face perfectly as it lit with contentment at those words.

"I love you too mon petit poet. And you're right, we shouldn't punish our nephew because his father's a bastard."

Jehan hummed in agreeance. "I'm sorry that I threw my phone and a potted plant at you."

Courfeyac snorted. "Well, I probably deserved at least the potted plant and as to the phone, I've been telling you for months now that you needed an update."

Jehan snickered as he slowly lifted the helmet from his boyfriend's head.

"So that means you'll come to Charlie's birthday?"

Courfeyac leaned in to gently grace his poet's lips with his own.

"Of course."

 **Soooo... Watcha think?**

 **Leave a comment/review or follow/fav and I'll be with you Lovelies real soon!**

 **Until next time :)**


	3. For Good

**Hello Lovelies! Well... it's been a dog's age... But here is the next vignette in** ** _Tomorrow Comes!_** **I hope you enjoy! It's a lil sad, but also a lil fluffy :)**

 **As always I LOVE to hear feedback (it motivates me ;) ) So leave a comment/review and/or follow/fav and enjoy!**

 **Warning: Nothing really**

 **Disclaimer: Not mine :'(**

It was Grantaire who met her first. He was walking back to his apartment from the gym after a session of boxing with Bahorel when he heard wheezing down one of the many alleys his back route took him by.

Knowing the kind of characters that frequented the alleys this far east he took a moment of weighing his options before hoisting the duffle bag higher on his shoulder and making his way down the alley.

He found her slumped against a pile of produce crates coughing horridly into a filthy scrap of a tissue, the force of the coughs wracking her all too weak frame. Her shoulders were bare except for the thin straps that held up a deteriorating dress that once could've been considered red. Her hair was mangy and her face had a gaunt quality to it. The site caused Grantaire to freeze for a moment, his mind flooded with painful flashbacks to when Éponine was in a similar position.

When her coughing fit seemed to cease, Grantaire crouched besides the waif, holding out a gym towel.

"Need something a bit bigger?" He said softly, however she still jumped about a mile out of her skin.

"Please Mousier, I have nothing to offer and I'm too tired to offer anything else." She wheezed, her voice was frail on the verge of breaking and the effort brought another series of coughs thundering through her ailing frame.

Grantaire frowned. "Mademoiselle I came looking for no such thing, I only came to offer a kind hand."

The gamine spit out a bitter laugh. "That's what he said too and look where that's left me." She moaned, her hand falling on her otherwise unnoticed middle. Grantaire's eyes doubled when he noticed the slight bulge pushing at the ratty red fabric.

"Mademoiselle you shouldn't be out in the cold in your condition."

Another bitter laugh. "If the Daddy cared, I wouldn't be, but who am I but another whore to him?"

She was making no signs of moving or be willing to move and Grantaire was unsure of what to do.

"Mademo…"

"Estelle" She whispered. "I don't really count as anything of a lady."

Grantaire winced having heard that very statement far to many times from his best friend.

"Estelle," He started again. "Please, let me take you to my home, you need to be someplace warm."

"To your home mousier? Someplace warm? Like your bed?" She sneered.

"No, I was saying for shelter, though my fiancé would insist you take the bed, he wouldn't want to see anyone suffering."

She regarded him with confusion and curiosity, her mouth hanging open slightly.

"Mousi…"

"Nicholas, or R, it's much nicer than 'sir' in my opinion."

She rolled her eyes. "R?" She composed herself. "I appreciate your kindness but all I have left is my dignity and I prefer to keep it as long as I can."

Grantaire was silent, simply looking at the poor creature in front of him. How had she come here and gone through all of this, but her spirit, so strong and intact. It went against everything he believed and felt was right, but he knew he shouldn't push her.

"And you shall, but at least let me take you back to my gym? They have rooms for shelter and showers. Please, for the sake of your baby."

She almost coughed out another laugh, but her hand rubbing her stomach betrayed her true feelings.

"Alright, but only to your gym, I won't dirty your home."

"You wouldn't, but I promise, just to the shelter of the gym."

Together the odd pair made it back to the gym and Grantaire made sure that Estelle would have a place to stay if ever she needed it. Before he left her he scribbled out his number onto a gym card and handed it to her.

"If you ever need anything, don't hesitate to call."

She took the card and carefully placed it in the only pocket the dress provided and then she stood on her tiptoes and pressed a kiss to Grantaire's stubbled cheek. "Thank you."

Weeks turned into months and Grantaire would occasionally see Estelle in both the alley he first found her and the area surrounding the gym. Whenever they saw each other they would exchange pleasantries and he would buy her food, but he worried more and more every time he saw her. As her stomach swelled, her frame seemed to shrink, as if the life growing inside of her was sucking all the life out of her.

"Enj I don't know what to do." Grantaire moaned one night as they settled down into bed.

"Mrhmph" Enjolras in all of his grace was already curls deep under the blanket and practically dead to the world. But Grantaire honestly didn't mind, he'd figured early on this was how his conversations with Enjolras about Estelle should happen. The one time the two had met each other, the blonde haired revolutionary attempted to pull her into his latest cause and insist upon supporting her in anyway possible. Three hours in the ER and a broken nose later, Enjolras promised to stay out of Estelle's life.

"I think she's nearing her due date and I haven't seen her in two weeks. And when I did see her she wasn't looking too hot. I'm worried for her."

He sighed aloud and looked down at the blonde mop emerging from the top of the red comforter snoring loudly.

"Nice talk Enj." Grantaire smiled, shimming down to his Apollo's level, he slung an arm across the blonde's torso. Enjolras grunted happily in his sleep and curled into the offered body. Within moments the two were sound asleep.

What only seemed like moments later, Grantaire's phone sprang to life on the bedside table, jolting both men from an otherwise peacefully slumber.

Without opening his eyes, Grantaire fumbled around the small table for a few moments before his hand made contact with the vibrating demon. Squinting he could just make out the time, 2:45am, and slid open the call.

"Hello?" He mumbled, head falling back onto the pillow as if expecting this call to be one of Joly's midnight medical questions (if he'd checked the calendar correctly, it was his turn to be disturbed.).

What he wasn't expecting was an onslaught of hysteria on the other line. Someone was trying to speak to him but very shrill crying was drowning their words out. Estelle. Grantaire snapped awake.

"Hello?"

"Sir, are you R?"

"Yes, is that Estelle? Is she alright? What's wrong?" Grantaire leapt out of bed and began to hurriedly pull on pants, Enjolras also shook awake, his face displaying concern.

"Sir, she insisted you be here, an intern found her struggling to get to the hospital, she insisted we call you."

"What happened? Is she alright?!" Grantaire was frantic now, the sounds of Estelle crying in the background ripping at his heart.

"Taire?" Enjolras asked worriedly, rising slowly from the bed to place a comforting hand on his lover's back.

"Sir, we believe she's gone into premature labor, and she's very sick, the chances here are"

"Just let me speak to her." Grantaire ground out, he didn't need to hear of chances from this white coat, he'd heard enough of that in his lifetime.

He heard the doctor clear his throat and then the phone was passed.

"R?" Estelle's shaky voice came over the receiver, her speech thick with tears.

"Hey Estelle, I haven't seen you around lately." He responded, trying to keep his voice level, but it was becoming increasingly more difficult as Enjorlas squeezed him tighter, supporting him.

"R, I want to see my baby." She sobbed and his heart broke.

"You will Estelle, you will."

"Please come R, please be with me."

"Of course Estelle, I will be there."

He stayed on the line as they both finished dressing, Enjolras insisted on coming along, knowing Grantaire shouldn't be alone in this.

When they finally reached the hospital, Estelle had been moved to an operating room for an emergency c-section procedure.

"What happened? What's going on?!" Grantaire demanded as a nurse tried to push him back.

"Sir, please, the baby was breached and there is a greater risk of losing both of them if we don't perform the c-section."

"But there's still a risk? Why is this happening? Who made this decision?"

"R." Enjolras soothed, but his fiancé would not listen.

"Sir, she did."

Grantaire stopped in his ranting to look at the doctor full on. He felt his heart plummet to the ground and barley registered Enjolras' hand in his.

It took him a few moments to compose himself before he spoke to the doctor again.

"Can I be in the room with her?"

The doctor hesitated for a moment, but the frankly terrifying look that came from the blonde hastened his reluctant nodding.

Grantaire turned to Enjolras before following the doctor through the OR's doors.

"Enj," His voice was already wobbling. The revolutionary simply leaned forward and pressed his lips to the artist's forehead.

"Shh, Nic, I know, it'll be alright."

Grantaire nodded once before disappearing through the OR doors.

They gave him scrubs, gloves, and a mask and whisked him into the operating theatre. Spread on the table, nearly as pale as the luminescent lights above her, Estelle was shivering.

Craning her neck slightly she broke into a shaky smile when she saw who had entered the theatre.

"R, you came!" She wheezed, reaching a hand out towards him.

"Course I did Estelle, I've missed you." He smiled weakly, trying to keep his composure.

"We're almost ready." The doctor's words hung heavy in the air.

Grantaire kneeled beside Estelle, bringing a shaking hand to her brow.

"You know what you're doing right Estelle?" He whispered, trying to keep calm.

She nodded feebly and broke into a wobbly smile. "They said I'm sick R, but they said my baby's alright if we do this. I need to do this for my baby Grantaire, I need to be a good mother for my baby."

"You'll always be a good mother Estelle! You're going to be a great mother!"

Estelle shook her head slowly at his words. "R, I'm not going to be with my baby for very long,"

"Estelle, don't say that." Grantaire urged, but the young woman brought a shaky finger to his lips.

"Please Grantaire. Please, when I'm gone, please take care of my baby, please give her a good home."

Grantaire couldn't breathe. He nodded jerkily after what could've been hours of being frozen, but Estelle didn't notice nor care, for she smiled widely.

She leaned forward to press a kiss on Grantaire's stubble before placing her hands on the part of her stomach that wasn't blocked by the surgeon's tent.

"Baby Girl, don't you worry, Momma's giving you to the best Daddies a girl could every ask for. Everything's going to be alright. Just know that Momma loves you. Always."

Over the course of four and a half hours the Amis managed to (yet again.) fill the small maternity waiting room. Enjolras had called Joly shortly after Grantaire had disappeared into the OR. Joly had brought with him Bousset and Musichetta, the latter of which told Éponine and Combeferre when she called asking if they could watch Jessie for them. With the twins and Gav needed to be watched as well, they called Marius and Cossette who then called Valjean who agreed to watch all five children. Marius sped over to Jehan and Courfeyac's to pick up Alex's blanket from their place and they insisted on coming along, the latter texting Azelma, Bahorel and Feuilly to fill them in. When told Bahorel laughed lightly, letting the poet know that they were heading there anyway because Bousset had accidently sent his text to Enjolras to the group chat.

They sat in relative silence, quite out of the ordinary, but they weren't sure what to make of the situation. They all knew Grantaire had been cordial with this young woman who he met near the gym, but none of them, aside from Enjolras, had actually met her.

So when the doors to the OR swung open nearly five hours after the whole ordeal began, the group was shocked to see Grantaire emerge haggard looking with a small pink bundle in his arms.

Blinking his watery eyes, Grantaire was stunned to see the entirety of his family sitting in the waiting room. Shifting awkwardly and curling the infant closer to his chest, he called out for the only one he needed.

"Enj. I need you."

He didn't need to be told twice. The blonde rose from his chair and made his way towards his fiancé, taking a moment to ogle at the bundle of life in the artist's arms. After the two made their into a small examination room Feuilly let out a low whistle.

"Well, that's certainly not what I was expecting when Bousset said we were going to the hospital for an emergency."

Within the small examination room, Grantaire let the tears pour forth once more.

"Taire, what happened?" Enjolras whispered, bringing a shaking hand to the infant's head which sported a small tuft of soft blonde hair that held a slight orange tint to it. She was sleeping peacefully and her little hand had just managed to worm it's way out of her swaddle.

"They performed an emergency c-section because Estelle was too weak to deliver naturally. But she lost too much blood during the procedure." Enjolras gasped quietly and moved to embrace his lover. "She knew it was a risk, but she just wanted her baby to be safe. She only lasted long enough to see her baby girl." Grantaire shuddered and brought the little girl closer to his face though the infant slept peacefully as the artist's tears fell to her blanket.

"Oh Taire, what'll happen to her?" Enjolras asked gently. Grantaire looked up and in that instant Enjolras knew their life was going to be different.

Grantaire couldn't get the words out before Enjolras pulled him into an embrace, pressing their lips together before pressing a gentle kiss to the baby ( _their_ baby's) forehead.

"Really? I know it's a lot and you never really knew Estelle, but she said Daddies, so I assumed she trusted you enough." Enjolras pressed his lips to Grantaire's once more to halt his ramblings.

"I believe you met Estelle for a reason and here she is. Taire, we have a baby girl."

Grantaire broke into a watery smile. "Yeah, yeah we do Enj, we have a little girl. Do you want to hold her?"

Nearly a half hour later, the couple emerged from the examination room, now Enjolras holding the small pink bundle.

Combeferre quirked is eyebrows as Éponine smiled, rising to her feet. At her action, the others joined her, all awaiting the obvious.

Grantaire cleared his throat. "Everyone, we would like to meet Francesca Etoile Enjolras-Grantaire, our daughter."

Courfeyac snorted. "You named your daughter after France?"

Enjolras turned red and Grantaire let out a laugh. "The mistress has been quite upset with me lately, had to honor her somehow."

Despite the oddity of the situation, everyone broke into cheers. The little girl was passed from arm to arm and congratulations were expressed. When the little girl finally awoke to the festivities, she was in Grantaire's arms and instead of crying at all of the noise, she smiled, gurgling happily in the arms of her Papa.

Hours later when everything settled and little Francesca was settled in the makeshift crib they'd fashioned out a bureau drawer and blankets, Grantaire was looking on lovingly at his daughter, Enjolras leaning against him doing the same.

"She's beautiful Taire." He breathed, watching her little chest rise and fall.

"She really is Enj." Grantaire breathed. Silently he said a prayer for Estelle, who he felt was watching over her little girl as they sat. He prayed for her to finally find peace and he promised that he would protect, love, and care for her baby girl until his dying breath.

Before he fell asleep that night, with Enj on his chest and the sound of Francesca's puffs of breath, he thanked God above for his growing family. Because of Estelle, his life had been changed for good.

 **Soooooo... watcha think? Don't forget to comment/review, follow/fav and I promise I'll be back sooner!**

 **Until next time lovelies!**


	4. Christmas Eve

**Hello my Lovelies! I come bearing gifts! A two part Christmas chapter! YAY! And a Christmas promise to have more written before the year is out and within the start of the new year! So here's a little take into what the Amis do for Christmas, starting with Christmas Eve :) (Even though this is going up just past it... it was written on Christmas Eve :) )**

 **Warning:Fluffly!**

 **Disclaimer: Nope :(**

No one could remember when the tradition started. Combeferre would insist it came from the need to give the Thénardier siblings proper Christmas celebrations. Enjolras would insist they held a meeting too late one Christmas Eve and simply decided to spend the night at the closet flat. Éponine swore it came from the overlap of exams during their uni days, everyone too lazy to move their crap from the designated apartment until their brains fully recovered from the onslaught that was finals. Joly thinks it was because of the infamous flu that Bousset brought to the café one year that conquered all of their immune systems and left them as useless lumps around one communal television set watching classic and corny Christmas movies.

Each Amis had their own version to how their Christmas tradition came about, but Grantaire was convinced he knew why.

Twas the night before Christmas and all through his and Enjolras' house miraculously none of the creatures were stirring.

It was quite a sight to behold in the Enjoltaire (Courfeyac's name to the house (and ship.).) living room. Piles of blankets and pillows were strewn about every which way and curled on top and underneath were growing Enfants d'Abassie. Gavroche, being the eldest, received the coveted lounge chair. He was wrapped tightly in his patria sheets that Enjolras dutifully kept in the closet for whenever the original enfant d'Abassie decided to spend the night. Curled together in the giant bean bag chair Bahorel generously donated for the evening's festivities were Sarah and Ben, both clad in elf and reindeer pajamas and each clutching the warring plush toys that came from the hospital gift store just three years ago now. Ben had a small brown bear when Sarah had a petite orange kitten affectionately named Kitty. Adjacent to them in her own nest of blankets and pillows, carefully arranged by her fathers, snored Jessie, her elephant clutched tightly to her chest and her thumb (despite Joly's fretting.) dangling from her slightly parted lips. Just above her on the couch with his backside in the air and one hand dangling was Alex snoring louder than all of the children combined.

And lastly, still in a bassinet that was still rocking slightly from the last push Grantaire gave it was the youngest member of their family, Francesca or Franny as they'd taken to calling her. She too had her thumb in her mouth as she slept peacefully.

In the corner of the room glowing softly in the darkened living room was a magnificent little tree. Among the fairy lights were ornaments the group had collected over the years ranging from the tacky ones that were all personalized with names and dates and the homemade crafts (ranging from Feuilly and Grantaire's masterpieces to Éponine and Musichetta popsicle stick angels.) to old family heirlooms they'd compiled to give the tree the extra family spirit. On the top stood an angel that Grantaire had painted the Christmas after the barricades. She had golden hair and blue eyes and most of the Amis (Courfeyac) swore it was actually Enjolras, but Grantaire insisted it came from one of Jehan's poems. She had beautiful fairy wings that had been intricately painted in the style of stained glass by Feuilly and her dress of royal blue and silver appeared to be flowing in a heavenly air.

Beneath the tree were presents and parcels of all shapes and sizes each wrapped in the most colorful paper they had managed to find. The children would be amazed to see that Père Noel had magically brought all of the wondrous gifts the next morning, seeing as the base of the tree was kept bare all through their Christmas Eve celebrations.

And whilst the children sleep all nestled in their beds with visions of sugarplums dance in their heads where are the amis you ask? Well, conveniently in the Enjoltaire abode, there's a second smaller living room just adjacent to the large living room where the children slept that in turn supported its own nests.

Nestled all together, if that were possible, was the makeshift family that was Les Amis D'Abassie.

Now we see them far past the Christmas Eve festivities and far past the delicate reindeer hoofs and jolly St. Nick's visit as he tiptoed around the children and filled the tree with delights. Now, with visions of their own bliss dancing around their heads they curled into one another; husband into wife,lover into lover, sister into sister, and brother into brother.

Bahorel was at one end, installing himself as a pillow for Azelma and Feuilly who had managed to pretzel themselves together while Azelma's legs had craftily braided themselves with Éponine's. Éponine in turn was curled into Combeferre's chest as the guide had one arm supporting Courfeyac's head. Courfeyac belly (which after the feast provided by Musichetta, Cosette and M. Valjean's famous gingerbread mansion (literally this house could be considered Versailles.) was resembling a bowl full of Jelly.) kept up Jehan's feet. The little poet's body lay like a log among the sprawling arms of Musichetta, Bousset and Joly, the final who had flung his own legs onto Enjolras' middle. The only one absent was the form that was usually trained to Enjolras' side, with his arm tucked tightly into whatever space Joly would allow from where his legs rested.

This figure moved around the house with all the grace as the down of a thistle. He checked on his daughter and all of his nieces and nephews. He placed the last of the goodies in each of the stockings that were hung by the chimney with care and the bon bons in the little shoes that were lined long the door. He slid the last of the boxes under the glowing tree and tucked the last escaped limbs back into their blankets.

He snapped a few pictures, bestowed a few kisses and then found his way back to his spot amongst his family in the nest.

So as he found slumber on this Christmas Eve night, Grantaire smiled, thinking of all the ridiculous stories on how their Christmas traiditions came about. But he knows deep down it all came down to their love for each other and the need to be around each other when family bond and love is strongest.

With the star shining overhead to celebrate the birth and its glowing embers igniting love around the earth, Grantaire found peacefully sleep with his family all around, knowing full well what joy the morning would bring.

Smiling he thought to himself what St Nicholas was proclaiming across the land,

 _Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night!_

 **So... Watcha think? Please leave a comment/review and/or follow/fav!**

 **Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays my lovelies and I'll see you real soon! :D**


	5. Christmas Day

**Hello Lovelies! As promised, part two to my Christmas gift... Though East Coast wise it's a tad late... but it is within the 12 days of Christmas so... ;)**

 **It's fluffy! and Christmasy! I hope all holidays for everyone were and will be wonderful!**

 **Warning: Fluff**

 **Disclaimer: Nope... not mine (except for the children), not even Santa could get those rights!**

 _Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night!_

Shrieking, squealing, damaged eardrums and laughing, that is what Christmas day consisted of.

However, much to the relief of most of the Amis, this happened to be the first year that a child was the first to sound the morning call. Most years it fell to the most childlike, which was either Courfeyac, Bahorel, or Grantaire. And why not Gavroche you ask? Well, he spent so much of the night attempting to catch Père Noel in his tracks that waking up on Christmas morning (especially at the ungodly hour Courfeyac rose) was never quite Gav's forte.

So when the living room clock struck just half past five, tradition shifted with the soft gasp of Sarah Combeferre.

The little girl sat up like a shot, her chestnut curls flying in every which direction as she whipped her head back and forth to ogle at all the brightly wrapped boxes under the tree.

With an excited squeak, she quickly took to rousing her brother to alert him of the miracle that was Santa Claus.

Ben, like his father, was not one to give up on sleep so easily. Refusing to open his eyes and give over to the day, he swatted at his sister sleepily and simply rolled over to the far side of the beanbag.

Humphing in defeat, she debated waking Gavroche, but figured against it, knowing he was just as stubborn as her Mama when it came to really anything.

The three year-old crossed her arms in thought, wondering which of her 'cousins' she'd awake to share her news with, but she knew that all of them (which the exception of Alex) were far too little to run about and enjoy the magic of Christmas morning. And forget about Alex, if she attempted to wake him from the precarious position he'd fallen asleep in, he'd be startled off the couch and onto the floor in a heap, and no one needed an injured Pontmercy on Christmas morning.

So, Sarah went to the next best step. Finding her way off of the bean bag chair, she took to her stubby legs and ran down to the hall to the living room where her parents had fallen asleep along with the rest of her family.

Not minding where she walked, she managed to step on several faces and limbs as she found her way to her parents who (much to the misfortune of the Amis on the outside.) were nestled quite in the middle.

The groans of pain weren't enough to warn Combeferre of the solid weight the landed itself squarely on his chest.

"Papa! Papa! Papa! Up! Up! Up!" Sarah chanted, bouncing up and down on her father's chest.

"Ugh, good morning petite." Combeferre grunted, catching his breath every moment or so with yet another bounce.

"Combeferre, I think she broke my face." Courfeyac moaned, rolling over to where Jehan was clutching his arm and Bahorel was writhing slightly in pain from a misplaced foot.

Éponine simply laughed, untangling herself from the array of limbs and lifting her daughter from her husband's chest.

"Good morning mon amour, what brings you in here so early?"

"Père Noel Mama! Père Noel!" She squealed, clapping her hands and fidgeting excitedly in her mother's arms.

Enjolras groaned as he checked his watch. "5:45, Christmas morning."

"I don't know which is more entertaining," Grantaire mused, propping himself on his elbows. "Courfeyac's shrieking or Sarah climbing over everyone only to jump on Combeferre."

Sarah laughed loudly along with the adults as she wormed her way out of Éponine's arms and climbing over more bodies (Including poor Marius' middle, which after a full feast the night before was not a pleasant thing.) she found her way back to the hallway.

"Presents! Père Noel left Presents! Come, come, come!" Jumping up and down she tore back down the hallway and shouted the same thing to the sleepers by the tree.

"Oh Lord," Cossette sighed. "Here it comes"

From the living room came the symphony of laughter, whoops of delight, and sobs of woken infants (and a child Pontmercy who had indeed managed to scare himself off the couch.).

It was a spectacle of flying paper, over joyous faces, and camera flashes. There was a bet taken the night before as to who would be the loudest whilst opening presents and though Sarah was the first to arise, Courfeyac and Bahorel still held the title for loudest present openers.

In a sea of torn paper and destroyed boxes, Gavroche was assembling his and Ben's new robots and gadgets as Ben clapped from his perch on Feuilly's lap, happily sporting a rebel pilot's helmet. Sarah was assembling all of her subjects in the castle that Grantaire had built for her. Balancing a crown and a tricolor cape she began to run her kingdom as Jessie clapped along, sucking on the hand of her new baby doll. Alex ran around the adults with his plane figurines as Franny giggled uncontrollably at the silly things Jehan and Azelma were doing with the finger puppets she'd received.

They were in their pajamas for hours, eating a breakfast feast of pancakes and pastries, coating the kitchen in a snow of powdered sugar. It only seemed like moments before every child, Gavroche included, seemed to simply collapse from exhaustion amongst the wreckage that was Christmas morning.

In the sudden quite, the Amis took to cleaning and preparing yet another feast for when the youngsters would awake. As well as exchanging their own gifts with each other.

Éponine however, pulled Combeferre to the small alcove just off of the kitchen.

Combeferre looked up to see the small sprig of mistletoe delicately hanging from a rainbow ribbon.

"Lure me here for any particular reason love?" He mused, placing his lips on hers, gaining a Christmas kiss.

She hummed contently before pulling away slightly, pressing a crinkly package into his chest.

"Oomph, you might want to be careful, Sarah left quite an impression this morning, he joked, rubbing his belly pitifully."

"Well, you may have to get used that Henri, with a little extra help."

Combeferre quirked a brow, taking the parcel from his wife's hands.

"Ben? He'll never wake up with Sarah's grace."

Éponine simply laughed and urged him to unwrap the gift in his hand. Taking off the paper, he found himself holding a tiny plush snowy owl.

Even more confused than before, he found a small tag tied around its talon, reading 'Coming September 1st'.

He looked back and forth between the owl and his wife before connecting the dots.

"Really?" He breathed, placing a shaking hand on her still flat middle.

"Well, September 1st may be a guess, but I figured since you love _Harry Po_ mhp" Combeferre had firmly planted his lips on his wife's and lifted her from the ground.

Laughing when he finally put her down, she put her hands on his face and brought their foreheads together.

"Merry Christmas soon to be Daddy again."

Bruised gut and all, with his children (both present and to be), wife, and family surrounding him, this was one of his favorite Christmases yet.

God bless them, everyone.

 **So... Watcha think? Don't forget to follow/fav, comment/review! Merry Christmas! Happy Holidays! And I'll see you lovelies real soon!**

 **Merry Christmas to all and to all a goodnight!**


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